A COASTING EPISODE
Winter had come in earnest. November was drawing to a close, and
leaving behind convincing evidence that it had claimed the right to be
classed as a winter, rather than as a fall, month, for snow lay thick
upon the ground, and coasting and sleighing made life gay for the young
people of Springdale. Directly lessons were ended for the day, a merry
party of girls and boys gathered upon the hill leading down from the
chapel, and thick and fast sped the sleds down the steep descent. Given
to original performances, it was no wonder that even coasting held a
novel feature as indulged in by Denise, or that Ned Toodles had to
share the fun in some way. Outsiders might have been of the opinion
that there was but little fun in his share of it, but to judge from
the manner in which he took part in it, there was far more than they
suspected. Accustomed to following Denise as a dog would have followed
her, he had trotted along one day when she started off with her sled
for a spin, and had watched her with those wise eyes of his as she
settled herself upon the sled and went whizzing down the hill. Then,
with one grand, hilarious kick-up, off he pelted after her, and reached
the bottom of the hill very nearly as soon as the sled reached it. That
he felt immensely proud of his achievement was evinced by the sort of
hurrah he cut up as she got up from the sled and started up the hill
for another coast, for he pranced and curveted and was as gay and giddy
as possible. Then, apparently grasping the situation, he trotted along
beside Denise until he reached the top, and the whole performance was
repeated. There were several other children coasting at the time, and
Hart among them.
“Oh, say! What’s the matter with making him draw you up if he is so
anxious to be in the fun?” he shouted, and thus it came about. The
little Dutch collar and an old bridle were promptly brought from the
Birds’ Nest, and, in far less time than it has taken to tell you about
it, a whiffletree was rigged up, and fastened to the front of the sled
and Ned harnessed to it. Then away he went up the hill dragging his
little mistress to the top as easily as winking, and sometimes another
sled “cutting” behind hers. After one or two trips he understood
exactly what was expected of him, and the moment Denise’s sled started
down the hill he was off after it like a shot. Reins and traces were
carefully fastened so that he could not trip over them, and he usually
managed to bring up at the foot of the hill very nearly as soon as
Denise. That he was often borrowed by some of the other children need
hardly be added.
The coasting was at its very best when one morning on his way to school
Hart stopped to give the signal whistle, which promptly brought Denise
upon the piazza.
“Are you coming out on the hill this afternoon?” he asked.
“You would better believe I am! This is the finest day we have had yet.
I wouldn’t miss it for anything,” Denise replied.
“Well, you’ll see a show if you do. Charlie and Archie are coming out
on the two o’clock train, and they are going to bring Lionel Algenon
Montgomery with them, ha! ha! I say, that fellow is a piece of work,
and if we don’t have a regular circus before this day is over then my
name isn’t Hart Murray. Of all the Miss Nancys you ever saw he is just
the greatest, and I dare say he will pad himself all up with cotton
wool before he risks his precious bones upon anything so dangerous as
a sled. Just wait until you see him, that’s all,” and Hart laughed as
though the very thought of Lionel Algenon was enough to stir up any
right-minded boy.
“Who is he, any way?” asked Denise, her eyes already twinkling.
“The greatest chump you ever heard tell of. He lives next door to
Archie and Charlie, and is his mamma’s precious only son. How she ever
made up her mind to let him come out here with my cousins I’m sure I
don’t know, for he never stirs ten steps without either her or his
tutor. Maybe she thinks that he is coming among such models that no
harm can come to him. We’ll see,” and, with a farewell wave of his
school-bag, Hart went tearing across the lawn.
When two o’clock came, Hart and his guests came with it. All extra
sleds to be obtained by either borrowing or begging had been pressed
into service, and yet the supply was one short, but turn about was fair
play, and so no great harm threatened.
“Hullo, Denise!” called out the boys, for they had often visited Hart
before, and looked upon her as one of themselves. “This is our friend,
Lionel Montgomery. Denise Lombard, Lionel,” was the boyish, off-hand
introduction.
Now Lionel Algenon Montgomery had been taught that it was highly
reprehensible to address a strange young lady by her Christian name,
even though she were but twelve years of age and he fourteen, so,
making his very best dancing-school bow, he lisped politely:
“Charmed to meet you, Miss Lombard,” and then stood waiting for that
young lady to take up the conversation. But Denise was far from being
the society young lady he imagined, and nearly laughed in his face as
she said:
“I am afraid that I shall have to wait a few years before I can be
called Miss Lombard, and meantime I’ll be just Denise, if you don’t
mind. I guess we can have lots more fun coasting and snowballing if we
don’t have to think that we may bang off Mr. Murray’s cap, or upset
Miss Lombard in the snow.”
“Oh, I shall be charmed if you will allow me,” was the stilted,
unnatural reply.
“I am afraid I shouldn’t know who you were talking to if you didn’t,”
was the laughing answer. “But let’s begin our coasting before this
lovely day is all gone,” and off she started for the “Birds’ Nest,”
the boys tearing after her. At least, three of them “tore;” the fourth
one paced along behind them as though he were promenading down Fifth
Avenue. Presently Ned was brought from his stall, the bridle and collar
put upon him, and off they started.
Now, Chapel hill had one peculiarity, and that peculiarity needed to
be studied. In the first place, it was a steep hill, and at the foot
of it ran a road at right angles to the descent. During the summer the
hill was covered with a luxuriant growth of clover, from which Mr.
Lombard harvested a fine supply of hay for his horses. Where the fields
bordered the road, a steep terrace, fully five feet high, made it
impossible for a hay-wagon to enter it, but, to overcome that obstacle,
the men had dug the terrace away in one place and made a gradual
incline about ten feet wide, through which they could drive in and out
without taking a flying leap into the roadway with their load. It was
through this incline that the coasters guided their sleds, whizzing
through it and out upon the smooth road, to make a sharp turn and go
bounding on to the very edge of Mr. Lombard’s grounds, where they had
thrown up a great pile of snow for a bumper.
“Clear the track!” shouted Hart, flinging himself upon his sled, to go
spinning down the hill, through the hay-wagon’s entranceway, and on
pell-mell to the bottom, the other boys hard after him, leaving Lionel
to do the gallant for Denise if she felt disposed to accept it.
“Here, take my sled and have a spin,” she said. “The boys will be back
in a minute, and I can have one of theirs.”
“Oh, no! I couldn’t think of depriving you. Besides, I don’t know that
I shall coast. It seems so dangerous.”
“Mercy, me! No, it isn’t. You couldn’t get hurt if you wanted to. All
you have got to do is steer straight down where we have gone, and you
will come out all right. Go on! It’s great fun, and Ned will pull you
up,” and she held her sled-rope toward him.
“I will watch you go first. I am not accustomed to very violent
exercise. Mamma does not approve of it.”
“I guess she wouldn’t call coasting such violent exercise,” said
Denise, as she settled herself upon the sled, gave the necessary hitch
forward, and spun off over the icy hill, whistling for Ned to follow.
By this time the boys were coming up, and became conscious of their own
shortcomings.
“Say, fellows, we need to be thumped,” cried Charlie, in contrition.
“Look at Lionel standing up there. He hasn’t got so much as a shingle
to coast down on.”
“Bet five cents he won’t coast anyway. If he did he would want to roll
himself up in a bearskin to keep warm,” was Archie’s comment.
“I’m the one who ought to be thrashed. Wonder what sort of a host
mother would say I am. Say, Lionel, we’ll be up in a minute, and then
you can have a go! Awful sorry I didn’t think of my manners sooner.
There you are,” and Hart brought his sled up with a flourish.
“Thanks, awfully, but I don’t think that I care to go down. I’ll just
watch you fellows. It’s pretty steep, don’t you know.”
“Why, it’s the finest you ever saw! Not a bit steep. Just try it, and
see if it isn’t just O. K. Take any sled you like, but mine’s a hummer.”
“It is a very low one, don’t you think so?” asked Lionel, eying askance
the rakish little sled built for speed and endurance, as a boy’s sled
has need to be.
“Why you can’t do a thing with them if they are high!” was the rather
derisive comment.
“Denise seems to manage hers very well,” replied Lionel, as Denise came
up, Ned supplying the motive power.
“Oh, she coasts girl fashion, of course. No fun in _that_! Got to go a
whopper if you want to have fun,” cried Archie.
“Seems to me I would prefer sitting up straight. Really, I should not
like to have my head get there _first_,” was the remark which caused
Charlie to cry:
“You want to ‘get in with both feet,’ do you?”
“Well, it would not hurt so much if one met with an accident, don’t you
know,” was the reply, given in all seriousness.
“Will you go down on my sled?” asked Denise.
“Why, I hate to deprive you of it, but, really,--well, I think that,
perhaps, I could manage that one better than the others, if you will
let me take it.”
“Of course you may take it, and Ned will be at the bottom of the hill
nearly as quick as you are,” cried Denise.
“Really? Will he follow me as he follows you? What a remarkable pony,”
said Lionel, reaching toward Ned to stroke him, whereat Ned gave a
comical bounce and evaded him.
“Well, let’s do something beside standing here and freezing,” added
Ned’s mistress, for she was accustomed to going up and down in hot
pursuit of the other sleds, and found this polite parleying rather cold
work.
With many adjustings and false starts, questions as to whether it would
not be wiser to keep to one side of the well-beaten slide, lest he
lose control of the sled where the descent was so glassy, and if he
should put down his left or his right heel if he wished to go to the
right, Lionel Algenon, at last, got started amidst a hurrah of shouts
at the send-off. It may have been the hurrah, and it may have been the
sight of the long stretch of gleaming snow which spread before him like
ground glass, or it may have been wicked Ned Toodles careering along
just behind him, that caused him to become disconcerted long before the
bottom of the hill was reached. Whatever it was, the climax came very
speedily.
“Keep in the track! Oh, keep in the track!” shouted those following
close behind him. “You’ll jump the terrace if you steer way over to
that side. Go through the opening where we went! You’ll smash the sled
to bits if you go over the bank!”
But their warnings fell upon deaf ears. Lionel felt that sled spinning
along beneath him at a rate which struck terror to his very soul, and
turned instinctively into the softer snow at the side of the beaten
path. But that snow was treacherous, for it was merely a light coating
of new-fallen snow upon a hard crust underneath, and his speed was
hardly a particle lessened. On sped the sled with a perfect shower
of fine, dry snow plowing up in front of it, and nearly blinding the
bewildered boy. Through the opening whizzed the other two boys,
landing in the road safe and right side up just in time to see Denise’s
sled, with Lionel clinging to it with both hands, come bounding over
the terrace with one wild, flying leap, and land in front of them.
Whatever saved them from piling on top of it was a miracle. Then came
the end, and when they finally got their sleds stopped, and made their
way back to the spot, there sat Lionel, still clinging to the side
bars, the sled beneath him, which was flattened out as though it had
been put beneath a letterpress.
“I really think that I prefer not coasting any more,” he remarked, as
they assisted him to his feet.
“Well, until Denise gets another sled I don’t believe you will. What
the dickens made you do such a fool thing as try to jump that terrace,
anyway?” demanded Archie, with some spirit, for he was growing just a
trifle tired of “taking care of a sissy,” as he dubbed Lionel, and his
own day was being spoiled by this boy’s affectations.
“I did not see the terrace, and the other path was very slippery.”
“You don’t expect to coast on _sandpaper_, do you?” demanded Charlie.
“Well, I think it would be nicer to coast on _level_ ground. Then there
would be no real danger.”
“Oh, go get an automobile,” was the natural, boyish retort.
“Yes, really, I think that I shall ask mamma to get me one. One can
keep so comfortable, don’t you know.”